I whirled, and saw no one.
"I just went down the street to Margaret's," came Jake's voice from inside the house. I realized the woman was inside, too, and not talking to me.
"To hide something, I suppose?" the voice continued. "Something of Emma's? The missing jewelry, maybe?"
"Just some food for the party," Jake said, meekly. "I told you, Jane; all of Emma's jewelry is in the safety deposit box. Emma was very careful about that. I'm sure the key will turn up."
Ah, I thought. This must be the sister-in-law. Emma, presumably, was Jake's late wife. And here I'd arrived in the midst of a family quarrel. Over missing jewelry, no less. I was tempted to stay and eavesdrop, but my conscience won out. I turned and began sneaking quietly off the porch.
"I'll bet you've given it all to that blond hussy you're marrying," Jane went on. I paused. I'd heard Mother called many interesting things--had called her a few myself--but "blond hussy" was a new one, even for Mother.
"No, no, no! Margaret doesn't know they're here--or in the safety deposit box, rather. I told her all Emma's good things had gone to pay the medical bills that the insurance didn't cover."
"Well, they've gone somewhere, haven't they? The Sheridan console that used to be here, and the Wyeth--"
"I told you, Jane; it's all in storage."
"We'll see about that. We'll see if your fiancee happens to have a Sheridan console like Emma's."
"Please don't do that. You'll upset her."
"I've a mind to go over there right now," Jane said. Hearing her footsteps coming my way, I whirled and ran pell-mell for home.
I need to exercise more, I told myself, as I sprawled, panting, on my chair in the kitchen, awaiting the onslaught of Jake and his sister-in-law. I'll just have to tell them I was doing my exercises, I thought. Oh, sure; Jake will certainly believe that, having seen me semicomatose in the kitchen a few minutes before. I stood up and did a few jumping jacks to add a note of realism for their arrival. After a few minutes I switched to sit-ups. When five or ten minutes passed with no sign of irate sisters-in-law, I abandoned my charade and went back to the kitchen for more coffee.
Damn Jake, anyway. At least he'd talked his sister-in-law out of storming over here immediately, but I had a premonition that trouble was still coming. Did Jake really think he had to put his late wife's possessions in storage to keep them out of Mother's clutches? And why didn't he just show them to his sister-in-law? Probably no time; she'd only just arrived a few hours ago. I hoped he did it soon. The way she sounded, I suspected that when she didn't find her sister's jewelry and furniture here, she'd accuse Mother of selling them. Which was nonsense. I could see Mother appropriating a piece of jewelry or furniture she thought was about to become hers anyway, and having to be gently but firmly told to give it back. I couldn't possibly see her selling them.
Mother arrived back from church just before noon, followed almost immediately by about fifteen or twenty relatives and neighbors, bearing flowers, extra plates and glasses, and more food in amazing quantities. The expected chaos reigned right up until the party began. I was a nervous wreck, expecting Jake's sister-in-law to arrive any moment shrieking accusations. The fact that she hadn't shown up yet was no relief; I was sure she was postponing the confrontation till the party, where she'd have a bigger audience. At least that's what Mother or any of my aunts would have done.
In retrospect, it seems appropriate that the summer's first known threats of homicide were uttered during the party preparations--although unlike at least one other local resident, I wasn't serious. My nerves were shot, and I was only trying to keep Dad and several of the uncles from decimating the buffet before the other guests arrived.
Mother is fond of remarking that she looks forward to the hour when a party begins because then she can stop working and start having fun. That may be true for her--although Pam and I have noticed that any work she does is purely supervisory. For me, the start of a party only means a change from the tangible, boring, but satisfactory work of cooking, cleaning, and decorating to the unpredictable and far more difficult task of keeping several hundred neighbors and family members from injuring each other or driving me crazy before the end of the evening.
I almost jumped out of my skin when Mother glided over to me with another woman in tow and said, "Meg, this is our guest of honor--Jane Grover, Jake's sister-in-law."
At first glance, Mrs. Grover seemed harmless. She was a short woman with badly hennaed hair and a loud print dress. She and Mother didn't look as if they'd had a quarrel. But after a second I realized that her smile looked artificial and her eyes cold.